


Remedy

by ultharkitty



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-29
Updated: 2011-12-29
Packaged: 2017-10-28 11:20:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/307337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ultharkitty/pseuds/ultharkitty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Starscream doles out his punishment at the end of ep. 11, Knock Out has a request.</p><p>Contains crack and sticky smut. A set of three ficlets written for a challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remedy

  
**Part 1**   


 

Knock Out lay on his berth, one arm draped over his face, the other dangling off the edge. “You’ll polish me, won’t you?” he moaned to Breakdown, his voice conveying the world of woe and melodrama.

“It’ll hurt,” Breakdown warned.

“I don’t care!” Knock Out peered through his arm, the missing door enabling him to see Breakdown’s unimpressed expression. “Just do it!” He flexed his talons for emphasis. “It’s bad enough being all… scratched up. I won’t be dull and dusty as well!”

Breakdown shrugged. He knelt on the edge of the berth, and tipped a little polish onto a cloth. “You got scratches in your scratches,” he said. “This is _really_ gonna sting.”

“For Cybertron’s sake get on with it!” Knock Out snapped. Five astroseconds later, as Breakdown worked the polish over his ruined paint job, Knock Out began to regret his request. But he bore it, and would continue to bear it for as long as it took.

At least in the end, no matter how marred his bodywork, he would gleam again.

 

 **  
Part 2   
**

“We could always…” Breakdown let the suggestion hang. The polish hadn’t exactly been a success, but Knock Out was still attractive. Nice lines, broad shoulders, and highly desirable colouration. And the scratches weren’t _that_ obvious, not if he unfocussed his optics.

“I can’t,” Knock Out moaned. He lay on his berth, his door-less left arm still flopped over his optics. “My finish is ruined!”

“It’s not so bad,” Breakdown lied. He held his hand out flat above a section of paint that had, miraculously, been missed by Starscream. Best not to touch right now, just let their energy fields press lightly together and hope it got his partner even a little bit revved.

“It’s _awful!_ ” Knock Out cried, although he didn’t move away. “It’s hideous, I’m disfigured!”

Breakdown sighed. “You can always get a repaint.”

This caused a reaction, but not the one Breakdown was hoping for. Knock Out tensed, his tone snapping from melodramatic to terse. “And how in the name of Cybertron am I meant to do _that?_ ” He shifted, finally, flopping onto his front and pressing his face into the berth. “I can’t get off the ship, I can’t move around without being watched. I can’t even go up on the flight deck for some air! And if I did somehow get that miracle repaint, Commander Control-Freak would just… do this again. Eugh.”

There was no arguing with that. “Yeah,” Breakdown said. “Vindictive glitch.” He sat heavily on the edge of the bunk; this was hopeless. Then a thought occurred to him and he perked up. He gave his partner an optimistic grin. “How about if we turn the lights out?”

 

 **  
Part 3   
**

After a while, Breakdown took matters into his own hands. Quite literally. If Knock Out was too stubborn to respond to the usual flirtations, then there was nothing else for it.

“If you’re not in the mood…” he said.

Breakdown went over to his own bunk – oh the joys of shared accommodation – and made himself comfortable. Giving Knock Out a not-so-subtle leer, he activated the release for his interface hatch. Hydraulics sighed as his spike emerged, and he was glad he’d spent so long polishing his partner; there was nothing like a good wax and shine to build up a bit of pressure.

Knock Out twitched. Still lying face down on his bunk, he moved his head so that he could see.

Suppressing a grin, Breakdown focused on his spike. Couldn’t look at Knock Out now, couldn’t talk to him. Had to make him crave the attention, get him so worked up he wouldn’t be able to help himself.

Breakdown began to fondle his spike. The nodes tingled, little jolts of pleasure sparking through him as he traced his fingertips lightly over the complex metal surface. A soft noise from Knock Out, but he resisted looking. Focus on the spike, only on the spike. And damn, it was a nice spike, well worth the money he’d spent on upgrades. Good design, just the right arrangement of ridges and grooves, wide too, proportionate to his frame.

There was a subtle clang as Knock Out sat up, the smallest of clicks as his thermostat tripped. Breakdown clamped his lip components together and slid down onto his back. His spike gleamed, slick and ready and fully pressurised. The whirr of Knock Out’s fans was wonderful, the crackle as his vocaliser engaged, then the tense silence as he said nothing at all.

Breakdown bucked his hips, gripping his spike firmly in his hand. Then he revved his engine, sending vibrations shooting through his interface array, and began to slowly, luxuriantly stroke himself.

“You, uh…” Knock Out began, then stopped to cough the static from his voice. “You look like you could use some help.”

Breakdown murmured – acknowledgement without response. He concentrated on the soft warmth of the lubricant on his fingers, the graze of charge as ridges and nodes made contact with the sensors on his palm. And all the while the feel of Knock Out’s optics on him, watching, taking him in.

Knock Out tried again, and his voice this time was smooth, confident. “You know what’s better than self service?”

Finally, Breakdown spoke. “Thought you didn’t fancy it,” he groaned, pausing to squeeze the very tip of his spike, then run his fingers down to the base. “Oh frag yeah, that feels _so_ good.”

“I’m in the mood _now_ ,” Knock Out declared. The bunk creaked as he leapt on, straddling Breakdown’s legs and looming over him, that wicked gleam back in his optics. “And I could make it feel _so_ much better.”

“Doing fine… by myself!” Breakdown gasped as Knock Out slid a claw tip between his spike and his hand. Then he sighed, relaxing as his partner gently prised back each of his fingers. Warm air grazed over the nodes, and he shuddered. But it was rapidly followed by a far better kind of heat as Knock Out settled on top of him, all sleek curves and gleaming metal, and eased himself onto Breakdown’s spike.

 _Finally_ , Breakdown thought. He slid his hands over Knock Out’s thighs, careful as he would have been before Starscream’s punishment, and gripped him lightly by the hips.

“Feeling better yet?” he grinned.

Knock Out’s engine purred, and his valve clenched. “Mmmmm… A little.”

Breakdown made his own engine roar, channelling the vibrations through his interface hardware. Knock Out moaned, his valve clenching hard, and Breakdown’s grin widened. “How about now?”


End file.
